Boys with Glass Hearts
by torq
Summary: Ryou Bakura is running from the past; Seto Kaiba is living in it. Euroshipping. Trigger warning: References sexual assault. I'm an ass for not saying that before. Story recently edited.
1. Escape

**Disclaimer: This is a fan-generated work of fiction. ****"Yu-Gi-Oh!" is the property of Kazuki Takahashi and 4Kids Entertainment, Inc. No monetary gain will result from the writing and/or release of this story. No copyright infringement is intended. ****Yami Bakura's given name is "Yami." Also, there's a little bad language, some suggestive content, disturbing imagery, and some suggestions of violence.**

He had been here before. He could tell by the dankness, and by the smell – the basement smelt of rust and salt, the sickening stench of blood. He was afraid to move, for fear of alerting anyone of his whereabouts. _Oh, no, he _thought to himself. _I oughtn't to have left..._

A piercing shriek woke him abruptly. He sat bolt upright, still dizzy and extremely groggy from the dream. There was another scream, and another. Terror overwhelmed him - what was going on? What was he doing? "STOP! Help me!" He suddenly realized who was screaming, and buried his head in his pillow, still screaming hysterically. The darkness suddenly melted away... _Oh, dear, _he remembered. _The neighbors! _He threw himself roughly to the floor, hoping that his body would get the message. It did. The screaming stopped. He lay upon the hard wood of his floor, shivering and panting.

"Ryou!" called Yami, suddenly realizing the time. "Come on! We're going to be late!" He was aware of the constant screaming, but what was to be done? They'd seen a therapist, they'd plugged a nightlight into Ryou's wall, and they'd left the door of our adjoining rooms open at night. They'd tried herbs and amulets, incense and incantations. Nothing had worked. He still woke up screaming every morning. Yami sighed as he futilely ran a brush through his eternally-tousled hair.

"Yami," moaned Ryou, curling up into a ball on the floor. "I don't feel well."

When Yami peered into Ryou's room, he quickly averted his eyes. _Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact, don't make eye con- damn! I'm making eye contact! Aww... He's always been such a good boy... _Ryou's eyes were opened their widest, unleashing upon him their fullest potential. _What a sweet child... He's doing the puppy eyes thing... Argh! _Ryou looked so sweet and so sad... _How can I deny him something as insignificant as this? _"Oh, fine," Yami grumbled. "You can stay home today, but stay inside. If you're sick, you should rest."

"I love you, Kitty!" Ryou groaned, greatfully, using his special nickname for Yami.

Yami sighed again, rolling his eyes. "Need anything before I leave?"

Ryou chuckled weakly. "I'll be fine! _You'll_ be late," he added, suddenly realizing what time it was. His eyes widened. "You need to get going, now!"

Yami smiled amusedly, waving to Ryou as he left the apartment. "See you later, Ryou! Behave yourself!"

"Go on," urged Ryou.

Once Yami had exited the apartment, Ryou breathed a high-pitched sigh of relief. He was grateful for the forgiving attitude of his brother, Yami, for it had saved his life more than once. Yami knew of the torment within Ryou, and was, therefore, more accepting of his needs. The last time Yami had ignored his brother's innocent requests, Ryou had had a dramatic meltdown in school, resulting in both of their detainment in the school counselor's office. Neither of them had wanted to tell her the real reason for their distress, so she'd let them leave early. That was when Yami had realized that Ryou's problems were more than mere problems, and it was no surprise. Everything Ryou had ever known, everything he'd been promised as a child, had been challenged that night. Ryou no longer felt safe in his own bed, let alone outside of the apartment. Yami, at a loss for what to do, acted as if nothing had changed, but it pressed terribly upon Ryou's mind. No one had ever heard the true story of what had happened that night, except for Yami and Ryou, and the matter was all but closed.

After Yami left, Ryou spent the remainder of the day completing his homework and resting. He lay on his stomach on the bed, staring at the light blanket of gray clouds spread over the sky, and sighing at the sparrows that perched briefly upon the windowsill, before flapping busily away. He hummed peacefully, filling in answers to pointless questions on a worksheet. When he was finished with his schoolwork, he meandered into the washroom and began to absentmindedly iron his and Yami's school uniforms. Yami would doubtlessly appreciate his handiwork, as he had little time for such mundane tasks.

After making each jacket and pair of trousers immaculate, he picked up his favorite book, _The Invisible Man, _by H.G. Wells. The book interested him, not because of its enlightening content, but because he understood Dr. Griffin so well. If he could have become invisible, he would have left no stone unturned. He could have run up and down dark alleys, with no fear of men with knives and alcohol-smelling breath. He could have crept up in the dark, wrested a blade from the grasp of some villainous lout, and swiftly gotten his revenge upon those men who had haunted his nightmares for months. Autumn was still his least favorite season – the sight of dead, crushed leaves strewn over pavement always induced a shiver from him, as it reminded him of the night he'd decided to stroll down the wrong street.

The latch on the back door clicked loudly, as Yami announced his return. "Hey, Ryou! I'm back!"

"Yami?" Ryou was pulled abruptly from horrible, yet strangely satisfying daydreams of stabbing rapists in the dark. Had he really been lost in thought for so long? It was now five o'clock in the afternoon, and he hadn't moved from the armchair since one. _The Invisible Man _lay open in his lap, and a highlighted line briefly caught his eye: "…Practically I thought I had the impunity to do whatever I chose, everything – save to give away my secret. So I thought. Whatever I did, whatever the consequences might be, was nothing to me. I had merely to fling aside my garments and vanish. No person could hold me." Invisible.

Yami emerged from the kitchen. "You ironed my uniform," he observed appreciatively, with some measure of relief. "Thanks, Ryou. You know I'm terrible at that stuff."

In spite of his unease, Ryou chuckled. "No offense, but you really are. Do you remember the time Marik Ishtar lent you that sweater?"

Yami grimaced exaggeratedly. "How could I forget? I'm lucky he hated the thing, or I'd have been in trouble," he grumbled. "He prefers to show off his midriff, though, so it wasn't a problem."

Ryou grinned wickedly. "Yeah, well, after you finished ironing that sweater, showing off his midriff wouldn't have been a problem!"

"Did somebody say 'Marik Ishtar?'"

"Marik!" exclaimed Ryou. "Are you guys having a playdate or something? Should I make extra spaghetti?"

Marik, who had also emerged from the kitchen and had Yami in a headlock, snorted in amusement. "We were going to hang with Ishizu and Max Peggy in the city center – wanna come along?"

Ryou raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Do I still have to cook?"

Yami smirked. "We'll eat out." He glanced at Ryou's tousled hair, adding, "That is, if you're feeling well enough."

"I'm alright now," Ryou assured. "I don't want to be a… fourth wheel, though."

Marik waved a hand airily. "Four wheels, better driving. I can't talk, though; I'm the one with the motorcycle. And yes," he added, as Ryou began to lace up his shoes. "My abs are gorgeous." They all laughed as they headed out of the apartment.

Ryou gently nudged Yami, whispering, "Who's Max Peggy?"

"Maximilian Pegasus," Yami explained. "He's an eccentric who lives outside Domino, and he's a little older, but he's pretty friendly. Marik introduced us," he added loudly, for Marik's benefit.

"My dad knows him from work," Marik explained. "I've been trying to set him up with Ishizu."

A sudden flurry of white fabric distracted them as a tall, slender, tanned woman materialized before them. Sweeping back her long, flowing skirts and the sheer veils obscuring her face, Ishizu glared coldly at her younger brother. "You wouldn't dare." Her dress was fitted and fashionable, but oddly weightless, and gave her an air of mystery.

"Evening, everyone!" boomed the voice of a British man. "The Pegasus has arrived!" A tall man in a red Asian suit with long, silver hair rounded the corner just behind Ishizu.

Ishizu stiffened, her deep cerulean eyes shifting warily. "Pegasus," she acknowledged coolly.

Everyone else gave Pegasus a warm welcome. Ryou smiled shyly, but shook his hand and introduced himself. "I'm Ryou Bakura. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Pegasus."

Pegasus waved away the formalities. "You can call me Max." Pegasus' attentions then focused on Ishizu, who was pointedly ignoring his flirtations. "May I have the honor of sitting by your side at dinner, Ishizu? I know I don't deserve such a favor, but I may be able to entertain your ladyship."

"If it suits you," Ishizu replied, indifferently. She turned away from him so that the loose bun in her long, coal-black hair obscured his vision. Pegasus, rather than attempting to keep her attention, reluctantly turned to Yami and began to discuss card games. Ishizu and Ryou exchanged beauty tips. "So, Ryou," Ishizu commented. "Your hair is so pretty. Do you condition regularly?"

Ryou nodded. "Yes, I use the 'Mokey Mokey' line, by KaibaCorp."

"Kaiba makes some pretty good shampoo," murmured Ishizu. "Personally, I find the 'Polymer Pro' conditioner more effective. Then again, my hair's quite a bit coarser than yours."

"Yami uses 'Polymer Crème' shampoo," Ryou revealed. "I bought it for him, and it works quite well on his tangles."

Yami and Pegasus had, by this time, grown bored of the card game conversation. "There's the restaurant," called Pegasus. "It's 'The Apnea.' I'm sure there's an elaborate story behind that."

Something about the moment felt wrong to Ryou. There he stood, in front of a restaurant called The Apnea, trying to enjoy himself while a chill crept up his spine. There _was_ a reason the place was named after a breathing problem; right around the corner from The Apnea was the backstreet where Ryou's murderous daydreams had taken place, and where his nightmares had stemmed from. The others continued to walk, drawing closer and closer to The Apnea, but Ryou froze.

Yami, realizing that his brother hadn't followed them, caught the front door of the restaurant as it closed. Ryou stood stock still in the middle of the sidewalk, his eyes wide and fearful as he stared, not at The Apnea, but at the street behind it. "Ryou?" Yami approached him hesitantly and, placing a worried hand on his shoulder, tried to find what Ryou could be staring at. "Ryou, let's go eat."

The sight of his brother's terrified face against the background of a dark, urban street revived a memory in him, a memory he'd tried to suppress. A whole host of sensations returned to him: the icy gusts sweeping his hair, the frantic pounding of his heart, the putrid stench of various bodily fluids. Ryou hadn't needed to speak a word, yet he whispered, "It's there."

"Ryou." Yami gripped both of his brother's forearms and pulled him to face in the opposite direction. "You'll be alright in the restaurant, alright? Marik, Ishizu, and Pegasus are in there. It'll be alright – let's just go in."

Ryou appeared completely unresponsive, staring into Yami's eyes with the same paralyzed fear. His mind had shut down; he knew only instinct, now. The world melted around him. He only realized he was sprinting up the street after Yami's cries of "Come back, Ryou!" had long since disappeared. Even then, he did not stop running.


	2. Invisible Man

"_Seto?" Mokuba sniffed. "Seto, I don't want to go!"_

_ "Mokuba," Seto had snapped. "You have to go. There's nothing for you to do around here, and besides, I want you out of my hair. I have a lot of work to do."_

_ "But, Seto…"_

_ "No." It was final._

Seto's vision began to blur. What had he done? At the time, he hadn't even considered the consequences, or the possibility that Mokuba could be… He didn't even want to finish that thought. He leaned against the corner of a brick building, as the hustle and bustle of the Domino City nightlife commenced around him, blurring into streaks of color and light. Finally losing all resolve, he allowed the tears to fall freely. It wouldn't have mattered, if Mokuba had been by his side. Mokuba, for some reason, had always known exactly what to say. He may have been a child, but he had had the introspective powers of a ninety-year-old man. Now, there was no one to comfort him, give him tiny bouquets of wildflowers, or draw scribbled pictures of the KaibaCorp tower. There was no one. No one even noticed the infamous CEO of KaibaCorp crying on a street corner. There was no one.

"Kaiba?"

_Oh, son of a…_ He turned around slowly, hoping that the tear tracks on his cheeks would just disappear. He was irked and slightly embarrassed to find a small, white-haired classmate of his with tremendous, brown eyes gazing inquisitively up at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you alright?" The child (whose name temporarily escaped Seto) cocked his head concernedly.

Something about him drew more tears from Seto's eyes. "What do you think?" he growled. "I'm a CEO, I'm standing on a street corner in the middle of the night…" His throat constricted. "What do you know? Get lost." Seto stormed off into the crowd. Soon, he found himself in a silent, dimly-lit, and more foreboding part of town. A delicate sigh made him jump, and when he turned around, he found that the white-haired boy had followed him. "What part of 'get lost' did you not understand?"

"I'm Ryou Bakura," the boy introduced, ignoring the remark. "I'm in your class."

Grudgingly, Seto acknowledged that he knew Ryou quite well. Ryou's seat was by the window, and often, across the classroom, Seto would admire the way his hair caught the sunlight, giving him a mysterious, ghostly appearance... but Ryou really didn't need to know that. Confusion tainted Ryou's angelic face, and Seto realized that he was blushing. "What?" he snapped. "I remember you. You're the British kid with the overprotective brother."

Ryou colored. "There's no need to start on my family," he replied, calmly. "Yami is no worse than you."

Seto let out a harsh, slightly maniacal bark of laughter that echoed all the way down the desolate street. In the background, the busy world from which this street – the inappropriately-named Hikari Lane – was so utterly isolated. "Yeah, well, that's all over, now."

Understanding suddenly crept into Ryou's eyes. "If you want to, you can talk to me about it," he offered, quietly.

Seto's clenched jaw trembled, and an agonized moan escaped his lips. His entire body heaved with the gargantuan effort of standing. "No!" he roared. "Get lost, already!" He turned abruptly and ran. He didn't even care where he ended up. He just ran.

Soon, once he was out of breath and his senses had rejoined him, a cold sweat glazed his brow. What had happened to Ryou? He had left the poor boy alone on this dark, deserted street; any number of terrors could already have befallen him. Horrorstruck, Seto began to run in the opposite direction.

_Oh, gods,_ Ryou thought, in alarm, as Seto ran off. _If he gets run over by a car, it'll be my fault! _With such a harrowing scenario in mind, Ryou darted after him. As he approached the next corner, there was no sign of Seto. He slowed down, intending to return to a friendlier area of Domino City, but suddenly felt a strong hand clench around his arm. He yelped, but another hand was clamped over his mouth. He was jostled roughly, flailing and trying to scream, but was thrown forcefully against a rough brick wall. Three other men joined the first, and Ryou could smell the stench of alcohol on their breath. _Oh, gods, not again… _It had happened before. The smell of blood, the dankness…

"Why don't we have a little fun?" hissed his captor.

A cold shiver ran up Ryou's spine. His nightmare was about to play out again.

"Gentlemen." When Ryou looked up groggily, the face of Seto Kaiba swam before his eyes. He felt himself being lifted into the air, and then his mind fogged, and a faint medley of voices and sounds was the extent of his contact with the world.

"Gentlemen," Seto growled. "Having fun, are we?" The four men bared their teeth at him, but he fearlessly shoved them away in order to pull Ryou from their clutches. Ryou's big, brown eyes shone with admiration as he clung to his savior. The men clumsily threw themselves upon Seto, who pushed Ryou behind him in order to hold them off. Ryou fell backwards onto the pavement, cowering from the fight and watching the mysterious man defend himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Seto detected movement – his fist collided with the attacker's head, with a colossal crack. The man merely rolled over and fell asleep, too intoxicated to care.

"You fool!" Everyone paused in order to hear what Seto was about to declare. "You… got filth on my pants." A now-enraged Seto Kaiba proceeded to knock each and every one of the drunken men to the very edge of life and death. As they all lay in the alley in a comatose stupor, Seto towered over them, seething, until the sound of a tiny sniff reminded him of the unfortunate victim.

Slowly, he made his way back to where Ryou lay, picked him up from the dirty pavement, and cradled him in his arms. Ryou sobbed uncontrollably into Seto's coat lapel, but for once, Seto didn't mind his clothes. He held Ryou even closer when he recalled that the last time he'd held someone that way had been just the previous week. Mokuba had rushed into his arms, weeping and begging to stay home. Of course, Seto had denied him this simple request. Pressure began to build up behind his own eyes, until he remembered that he was embracing a classmate in an alley. He began to carry Ryou toward his building.

"Where are we going?" came Ryou's muffled whisper.

"I'll take you to my building. It's not far from here," Seto replied, patting Ryou's back.

In spite of all that had happened, Ryou could barely hold his eyes open. The steady rocking motion of Seto's body, combined with his rhythmic breathing, soon eased Ryou into a state of contented oblivion. "Thank you, Kaiba," Ryou sighed, just before he was lulled to sleep. He had the vague impression that he was in a revolving door, or perhaps an elevator, but then it all faded into blackness.

Feeling the tiny body go limp against his chest, Seto glanced down in alarm… to find that Ryou had fallen asleep in his arms. He shifted his arm in order to cushion Ryou's delicate neck. His throat was so fragile-looking… Surely it wouldn't hurt to merely touch him… No, that was going too far. This child would stay the night, and that was the end of it. The only reason Seto had given him a second look was his similarity to Mokuba. In the morning, Ryou would be gone from his life. And he would take his neck with him.


	3. Fragile

"Bakura?"

Ryou began to stir. He had lain upon the pale gold fainting couch in the parlor of the KaibaCorp Tower for at least a half an hour, his eyes wide open, but completely unresponsive. Seto would have thought him dead, had he not been breathing. If Seto was being honest with himself, the spectacle was a frightening one. Ryou blinked several times, before sitting up in order to assess his surroundings. He glanced swiftly at his hand, which Seto suddenly realized he was holding. Seto released Ryou's hand, his face heating up. To cover it up, he thrust a glass of water toward Ryou and averted his eyes. For several minutes, they merely sat in silence, as Ryou sipped. Ryou finally blurted out, "Thank you for everything."

Seto warned, "This doesn't mean we're friends."

"'Course not," Ryou concurred, softly, as he stared at his hands folded in his lap. "I have Yami for that."

Curiosity suddenly overcame Seto's hostility. "Who else?" Was Yami all he had?

"What?" Ryou was taken aback.

"Who else do you have?"

Ryou held back a derisive snort. "A crowd of female admirers who would really rather be molesting children, and a lot of gay men. Don't ask me why."

Seto fell silent. _He doesn't have any friends?_ "I'm…" Seto gritted his teeth as he apologized, for he rarely did so: "_Sorry_ I asked."

Ryou shrugged, gazing dreamily at the blank wall behind Seto. In his quiet, even tones, he explained, "It's alright with only Yami, really. We're one and the same. I usually cook, he usually buys clothes, and we both clean. When we do argue, which is rare, neither of us can stand to be angry with the other for extended periods of time. On really special occasions, we go out to dinner, like we did earlier. Speaking of which," Ryou added, frowning. "What happened, and why did I wake up here?" He peered out of the window, to find that it was still the middle of the night.

Seto, still absorbing Ryou's story, tried to find the right words to tell him what had happened that night. "Well… When I came back, they" –

Ryou interrupted, his eyes turning uncharacteristically cold. "I know what happened. What I want to know is how I got here."

Seto's eyes narrowed. "I carried you."

Ryou uttered the tiniest, "Oh." His eyes flitting toward Seto's for a fraction of a second, he added, "Thank you."

In order to break up the awkwardness, Seto stood up abruptly, offering, "You'll stay here for the remainder of the night. Your brother can come for you in the morning."

"Well, thanks!" Ryou attempted to follow Seto, but stumbled and nearly collapsed. Seto caught him easily around the waist. "And… thanks again," Ryou muttered, ivory cheeks suddenly aflame. Seto's hand remained boldly placed upon the small of Ryou's back as he led Ryou to a twentieth-floor guest room.

Seto sheepishly reflected upon the number of times he'd blushed that day – certainly more than he had in ages. The great Seto Kaiba did not _blush_. Apparently, now, he did. _Curse you, Ryou Bakura, _he thought. _Or… Do I really want to be cursing Ryou? I take it back! _He shook his head impatiently, as if to clear his ear canals of water. _Why is this so confusing for me? Ryou is a child. Ryou is… Wait, are we on first name terms in my mind? _He gave the paneled wall an ugly grimace. _Curse you, Ryou Bakura…_

Just as this thought crossed his mind, Ryou shot him the most adorable beam he'd ever seen. Ryou's smile gave Seto the sensation that he was ascending toward the sky, the feeling of golden rays of sunshine on his face, and the grass rushing past his ankles as he skipped through a clichéd meadow in his imagination. Ryou's mouth drew up into a guarded, worried pucker and he hid the lower half of his face with a slender, white hand. "What are you thinking about?" Seto inquired.

"Um…" Ryou was distracted by the seductive nuances and tones of Seto's voice. Nevertheless, he answered the question with his customary honesty. "I was just thinking, why am I smiling so much? I've just practically been sexually assaulted again – there's obviously no reason to smile."

"You escaped," Seto pointed out. _Wait – did he say "again?" _"Ryou…" Ryou glanced up expectantly, but Seto simply shook his head, dismissing the issue. There was no need to bring up a possibly traumatic past at such an inappropriate time.

Ryou seemed extremely nervous as Seto showed him the room he'd be staying in. He shifted nervously from foot to foot as he thanked Seto for his kindness, but Seto made no mention of it as he bid Ryou goodnight. As he made his way back to his own room, Seto had to wonder what it was that was upsetting Ryou. Was he afraid of the dark? No, that couldn't be it. Perhaps he was merely nervous about being left alone? There did seem to be something that Ryou was keeping from everyone. Now alone in his dark, silent bedroom, he muttered aloud, "But should it matter to me?" The question echoed mercilessly in his mind. He knew Ryou's welfare was none of his concern, but he was inexplicably attracted to the boy. He glared accusingly at the crescent moon visible over Domino City through the glass wall. "Why?" he moaned. "Why is this happening to me?"

Seto tossed and turned restlessly, his mind hanging between consciousness and unconsciousness. He had to sleep; he had a meeting the next day, and he had to get Ryou Bakura out of his house! _I don't want to, though, _he admitted to himself. _I need someone like him. _Upon hearing tiny footsteps outside of his door, mind clouded in a state of half-dreaming, Seto sat bolt upright in bed, out of sheer habit. He rubbed his eyes, opening the door and crying, "Mokuba!"

Where Mokuba would have been, where Mokuba _should_ have been, stood Ryou, clutching his soft blanket in his tiny hands in exactly the same way Mokuba would have, looking just as terrified as Mokuba would have been. "Kaiba," whimpered Ryou. "Can I sleep with you?"

Seto's anger suddenly flared, as he realized that this was _not_ his Mokuba, and would _never_ be his Mokuba. "Is that all you want? To _sleep_ with me?" he roared. "You think I let just anyone into my bed?" His shoulders heaved as he seethed at poor, frightened Ryou, who cowered and sniffed meekly. "You must have a sick mind, Ryou Bakura!"

Ryou's lip trembled, and he burst into hopeless tears. In between sobs, he explained, "I... had a... bad... dream..."

Seto froze. He recalled, as if it had been yesterday, the last time Mokuba had visited his room in the dead of the night with the same complaint...

_"Seto?" Mokuba whimpered, pathetically._

_ "Mokuba!" Seto hissed, throwing the door open. "You need to sleep!" _

_ Mokuba began to cry. _

_ Seto's expression softened. "Mokuba," he whispered, sweeping the small boy into his arms and placing him upon his own bed. "You're going on a trip, tomorrow. Don't you think you need to rest?" _

_ Mokuba didn't answer his question, but clutched Seto closer to him. He sobbed, "I had a bad dream!" _

Seto's anger melted away as quickly as it had appeared. Silently, he stepped backwards, allowing Ryou to enter the room, as tears continued to run in rivers down Ryou's pale, angelic cheeks. "Er..." Seto wasn't sure precisely what to say to Ryou. He'd never been in a situation quite like this one. "Would... would you like to sit down?" He guided Ryou by the arm toward the settee beside the glass wall, where he could look out over the harbor, if he so desired. _What would I do with Mokuba, if this were he? _Seto hesitantly placed a hand on Ryou's shoulder. There was something so... broken about the boy. He was unusually frail, like a wingless angel, and was often the target of violence by other students. _What happened to him?_ He was still adorable, Seto noticed, smirking. _Wait – what? _Seto mentally slapped himself. The only other human being in the world who had ever earned his affection was Mokuba. Right? Ryou was not Mokuba! _This is way too convoluted. I don't like it at all. I'll let him sleep on the couch and kick him out in the morning. _Seto yawned, sleepily. Patting his diminutive classmate on the head (and trying not to enjoy touching Ryou's fluffy tresses too much), he crawled back into his bed, still keeping an eye on his sobbing guest. He was still sobbing. _What kind of __**EFF**__ing dreams does this kid have? _Seto drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning, the sun rose over Domino City, bathing the dark, opposing buildings in pale, pink light. The sun streaming through the window of his bedroom in the KaibaCorp Tower was what woke a slumbering Seto Kaiba, that morning. He moaned, frustrated with the way the world worked. He'd been dreaming of Mokuba... and card games... but mainly Mokuba. He yawned and rolled over, blocking out the imminent sunshine, to find... little Ryou, sleeping beside him. Seto's mind scrambled confusedly, trying to remember what Ryou could be doing in his bed. Oh, right - bad dream. It all came back to him. Ryou must have crept into his bed after their exchange, the other night. He was going to wake Ryou rather roughly and tell him to clear out, but then, Ryou sighed and twitched in his sleep. It was another few minutes before Seto realized that he had been staring, entranced, at Ryou's tiny, slumbering form. How could he let the poor creature die in the streets? The least he could do for Ryou would be to drive him home. His decision was made for him, when Ryou suddenly stirred again, sighing, "Seto..."

In wonder, Seto reached out and pushed Ryou's soft hair back, exposing his peaceful, tearstained face. Whatever nightmare he'd been having was long gone. _Is he dreaming about me? _Seto pondered the situation as he dressed, in his enormous closet. He had a boy staying in his house, sleeping in his bed, whom he barely knew, and who appeared to be enjoying sweet dreams about _him_. What was he doing in the dreams? Whatever it was, Seto hoped it was something reasonably chaste, or he'd have another problem to deal with. Shooting a last, wary glance at the angelic child in his bed, Seto tiptoed out of his room. As he stepped into the elevator, he glanced over his neatly-written agenda. The first item was, "Leave note for Ryou." Oops. He caught the closing door of the elevator with his outstretched arm, and shot back up the hall, a businesslike rocket. Tiptoeing back into his own room, he quickly dashed out a few lines. "Ryou," he scribbled. "Set of clean clothes in closet on table. Breakfast nook down hall to your left. Elevator down hall to your right. Dining hall on fourth level, to left of elevator. Can't miss it. See you at 12:50 p.m. for lunch. You may also call me 'Seto' consciously." With that, Seto rushed out of the room.

Ryou stirred in his sleep. "Seto..." he murmured, softly. Ryou's subconscious was conjuring up splendid visions of golden palaces and lush gardens, of princesses in silken gowns and knights on white horses. Ryou sat imprisoned in the south tower, a window behind him, and a mirror before him, showing him all that lay below his room. The colored threads on his loom shattered, sending a rainbow shower, a spray of light, into his eyes... Around him swam the light, until all he could see was a whirl of color... He stumbled... Sensation of falling into oblivion... He cried out for help, "Seto..." The sound of hooves... Someone was cradling Ryou gently in his arms, brushing a lock of hair off of his face. Somehow, he knew who it was. The light had faded, and crickets chirped around him. A nearby brook babbled softly, and a breeze brushed past them. "I don't want to open my eyes," whispered Ryou, to the knight. "This is too perfect."

The knight laughed a melancholy laugh, a laugh as beautiful and sad as tolling church bells. "Then don't open your eyes."

Ryou sighed, contentedly. "Seto..."

Suddenly, something felt wrong. Ryou wasn't sure what it was... It was too quiet. It was eerily quiet. All he heard was the chirping of a bird, and the sound of traffic... Traffic? Ryou's eyes shot open, awakened to the full glow of the warm, buttery light of a spring morning. His sparkling, hazel eyes darted around the room and took in every detail of his surroundings. He'd awoken in an elegant, commodious bedroom. The walls were painted a modest gray. Ryou gasped, upon noticing the glorious view of Domino City through the western wall, which was an enormous, spotless window. The city really _was_ beautiful, if you happened to have a twentieth-floor window from which to admire it. The burgundy-colored settee, sitting by the window, seemed to perfectly complement the view, somehow. The bed was a simple double bed, with an intricate pattern of leaves and vines carved into the dark wood of the headboard and footboard. Ryou enjoyed the feel of the soft, wine-colored, brocade bedspread, which perfectly matched the purple throw rug on the hardwood floor. A spindly writing desk, carved with the same leafy pattern as the bed, stood in the corner, beside a locked filing cabinet. An entire wall was lined with books of all sizes and colors. As Ryou gazed about him in awe, he noticed something else: he wasn't screaming.

Searching for some indication of the time, Ryou crawled over the sheets to examine the clock on the bedside table. He admired the golden clock with shelves inside of it, which housed tiny, golden angel figures. The angels were reflected in the mirror behind the shelves of the display, which were made of pristine glass. Two in the center held either side of a golden clock face, which read 10:00. "Kaiba?" Ryou whispered hesitantly. There was no answer, but his eyes alighted upon a piece of KaibaCorp-marked stationery lying on the bedside table. On it was a hastily scrawled message from Seto. As he reread the last sentence, his cheeks turned beet red. He swore under his breath. "Have I been saying his name… _unconsciously_?"

Muttering to himself as he meticulously made up the bed, Ryou smoothed the soft sheets so that they hung evenly on all sides. He carefully folded the bedspread back six inches, and fluffed each pillow. If he was such an unwelcome guest in Seto's house, he reasoned, the least he could've done would've been to make the bed. He hoped Seto wouldn't be cross with him for imposing so rudely. Oddly, his shoes and jacket were nowhere to be found. What had Seto done with them? _Perhaps they're in the closet, _he thought. _There are four doors here. That one, I know, leads to the hall. One of these must be a closet. _He tried the first, but found it locked. The second was a charming and palatial bathroom, with marble floors and a bathtub the size of a pond set into the floor. The third proved to be a walk-in closet, with floor-length mirrors on the door and the opposite wall. The table in the middle, as promised, held what Ryou considered a very "Seto-ish" outfit. It consisted of a pair of black trousers and a skin-tight, black shirt. His shoes weren't there, but Seto had left a pair of knee-high, black boots. He peeked hesitantly at his reflection; the black overwhelmed his delicate features, making him look frail and ghostly. "Well," he sighed. "We can't all be as strikingly handsome as Seto Kaiba."

_So I admit it to myself, _he thought. _I really _do_ think Seto is gorgeous. I can't believe I just _slept_ with him. _A million girls (and gay men, probably) would have died to sleep with Seto Kaiba, and he had just done it, almost effortlessly. _Well, it isn't as though we did anything objectionable. _What was embarrassing was the dream that Ryou had had, and that it had been audible. Ryou opened the door to Seto's room a crack, peering out into the deserted corridor. There was more dark wall paneling, of course, and soft, red carpeting. Glancing down at the note in his hand, he started off down the hall for the breakfast nook. Several paintings in gilt frames hung upon the walls, depicting various games in a Rembrandt-esque manner, perfect faces illuminated with fashionable chiaroscuro. Ryou was nearly sidetracked by their intricacies, his eyes darting from the ruff on the collar of a player to the fan of ordinary playing cards in his hand, and then to the other players around the table of the darkened room, whose faces were alight with heavenly spotlights. Each had an air of supreme concentration about him. A few steps down the hall, two men dangled on either end of a rope into the black depths of a well whose sides were plastered with cards. The men appeared to be racing to grab the cards, yet the angle was such that it drew Ryou deep into the story of the image, and the lighting drew his eyes to the youthful faces.

Several others of these images had caught his attention before he remembered food. Finding the door marked "Breakfast Nook," he let himself in, to find what resembled a private teashop. The large, clear windows were draped with sheer, magenta fabric, and the small, circular tables were covered with purple cloth. Pink satin and ribbon adorned the delicate, wooden chairs, while fragile pillow lace had been strewn everywhere. The whole effect was a rather charming one. On one small table sat a silver tray laden with hot breakfast food, with an attached note in Seto's script that read, "Ryou – I have a meeting, but I'll see you at the prearranged time. Enjoy," with a heart drawn on the back. Was the heart supposed to be there? Was that for him? Ryou doubted it, marveling at the degree of uncharacteristic childishness that could possibly have provoked that of Seto Kaiba, but casually slipped the note into the pocket of the black pants.

The food, as was expected, was delicious. The light, flaky bread melted upon his tongue. The fried eggs were cooked to perfection, with the yolks still unbroken. The bacon was crisp and succulent. Had Ryou been particularly hungry that morning, he would have devoured it. As it was, he savored a few bites. Glancing at his small, sturdy, silver watch (a gift from Yami) and realizing that two entire hours remained until Seto returned, he judged it a reasonable time to explore the KaibaCorp Tower.

Ryou wandered through extravagant room after extravagant room, hallway after empty hallway. Some rooms had high ceilings and ostentatious chandeliers; others were decorated in a minimalist style and with a muted palette of grays, blacks, and purples. The spiral staircases were modern, with wooden steps and sleek, metal banisters. The most disconcerting property of the KaibaCorp Tower, by far, was its complete absence of human beings. Ryou had expected maids and butlers, or anyone going about KaibaCorp business. There was no one. The halls echoed with Ryou's lonely footsteps, and his shadow was the only one on the walls. The quiet sent a chill down his spine.

As he explored, he wondered what Seto thought of him. He understood the obvious confusion as to why his body had completely shut down; he, himself, wasn't exactly sure why that happened. His theory was that it was merely his way of coping with certain stimuli that triggered those awful flashbacks, but it didn't explain the odd dreams… or the sleep talking, for that matter. A red tinge crept up in his face as he remembered the odd, protective glint in Seto's eyes, just before he'd blacked out. He entertained the possibility that he'd been imagining all evidence of feeling from the famously emotionless Seto Kaiba, but he simply couldn't believe that. Perhaps it had something to do with the deep sorrow that had emanated from him the previous night, but he could no longer believe that Seto was truly a remorseless machine. He had spent one night in the KaibaCorp Tower, and had already found out more than most people cared to about Seto. After what seemed like days, Ryou checked his watch and realized that the time was 12:40. His heartbeats became erratic. Finally, he would speak to Seto, face to face.

At precisely 12:50 p.m., Seto strode briskly into the polished dining hall. Upon spying Ryou, seated near the opposite end of the long, empty dining table, he stopped short. Noticing Ryou's hesitation, he cleared his throat to break the awkwardness, remarking, "You're early."

Ryou's thin, petal-like lips trembled nervously. "I didn't want to be late," he answered, softly. "I suppose it's time to discuss… well… calling my brother."

An inexplicable, tingling sensation suddenly came over Seto. His ears began to pound, a fuzzy haze descending around his head. Something inside of him broke, an emotional dam, allowing a free-flowing cascade of feeling to break loose. "R-Ryou," he stuttered, weakly. "Do you _want_ to leave?" He threw himself into the nearest dining chair, hiding his face in his hands. Finally, the waves lapping at the edges of his sanity receded, leaving his head ringing slightly, but clear. He felt the tender touch of a slender hand on his shoulder, smelt the scent of roses, and felt Ryou's gentle breath on his neck.

"Here," offered Ryou, sounding slightly panicked. "Drink this."

Seto accepted the glass of cool water Ryou offered with a nod of thanks. He moaned, "Ugh, Ryou, I'm alright."

"Kai-Er, Seto," Ryou stammered. "Would this be a bad time?"

Seto fixed Ryou with a calculating stare. "Not at all."

Ryou sat hesitantly beside Seto, inclining the chair in his direction. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't want to leave you all alone."

"All alone," repeated Seto, bitterly. "That's a wonderful interpretation, however wrong. I'm not alone. I have the anger of the staff I discharged boiling in pots in the kitchen. I have oil paintings and drawings. I have cobwebs. I have my memories, and I have my big, empty house!" He gave a harsh bark of slightly insane laughter. "Tell me," he roared. "What do I have to miss? What do I have to miss, when no one in the entire world knows me? My name means nothing. It's nothing to do with me. It's a title, like anything else in this cursed world."

Ryou was moved and very much disturbed by this sudden outpouring of emotion. He caught Seto's hand, before it fell upon the table, in his own. Their eyes met – Seto's fiercely passionate, crazed ones and Ryou's terrified ones. Under the circumstances, seeing the sheer insanity in Seto's face, Ryou decided it was best to skip the formalities. Seto was obviously depressed, unhinged, and slightly afraid of his own temper. It may have been unconventional, but he really thought he ought to be there for Seto in his time of need. "Do you think I ought to stay here, just… you know… in case?" Ryou's mind was flooded with all of the suicide crises he wanted to avert; he had, admittedly, contemplated them all at some point during the past year. From the depths of his memory, he pulled the recollection of something Yami had told him as a child: "Help those in need. Do it for your peace of mind, Ryou – help, and it may help you." _Should I stay? _As they both stared at their clasped hands, as if they belonged to two other than themselves, the answer was mutually understood.

Since Seto, in his rage, had dismissed the entire staff, Ryou offered to cook, but Seto insisted that it was unnecessary. He emerged from the kitchen, several minutes later, carrying two garden sandwiches. The two barely spoke; Ryou, not exactly comfortable with his situation, had little to say to a boy he'd barely met, but who was obviously a little unhinged and in desperate need of company. Seto, having never displayed such ardent emotion, was extremely embarrassed. "Well," Ryou suggested. "I may as well call Yami and tell him where I am. He'll be worried, now that I've been gone for so long."

"Certainly. Come with me." Seto rose immediately from his seat, leading Ryou back upstairs to the elegant room in which Ryou had awoken that morning. "This is the only phone," he explained, opening a small wall safe that was hidden behind a painting of a bowl of purple grapes, as if in an old spy movie. "It's in my study, of course, because otherwise, it'd be disturbing… uh… stuff," he finished distractedly. Seto stepped back to give Ryou some space.

"Ishizu? Ishizu, what are you doing in my apartment?" There was silence. "It's okay," he reassured someone on the other end of the line. "I'm fine. I'm with Seto Kaiba… I'm going to stay here… I" — Ryou paused, glancing warily back at Seto, before continuing quietly, " 'Help those in need. Help, and it may help you…' Look, I know you're worried sick… Yami? Yami, I'm fine! I'm fine!" Seto tried to tune out the conversation, but he couldn't help feeling a little selfish (more so than usual) for keeping Ryou. Then again, Ryou wasn't exactly protesting, was he? Ryou, meanwhile, was arguing, "I would have called you, but there was no one around, and Kaiba only has one phone in his entire house, and it's in a freaking _safe_!" His soft voice didn't seem to be helping the situation.

"Give me the phone," Seto finally demanded. When Ryou hesitantly handed it over, he snatched it roughly. "Who is this?"

A deeper voice, also British, hissed, "Where's Ryou?"

"He's with me. He's fine," Kaiba answered, coolly. "Why don't you mind your own business?"

"Mind my own business?" snorted Yami Bakura. "Kaiba, he _is_ my business. Why don't you let him go home?"

"Maybe he wants to stay."

"Maybe I don't give a damn."

They seethed at each other through the phone for a moment, before Seto continued, "Ryou is fine. Don't make him any unhappier than he obviously is. Why the hell was he wandering around in Domino City at night?"

"Through no fault of mine. You have no idea what you're screwing with!"

"You have no idea what you're trying to control," Seto remarked.

"Let me talk to Ryou."

"Fine."

Ryou, who was blushing scarlet at this point, accepted the phone receiver from Seto. "Yami? … Yami, please, I want to stay here. Look, I know it's unusual, but I think I'd rather be over here than over there… I'm not going to stay forever! Yami, be reasonable! Yami!" Ryou, hanging up the phone, appeared stricken. For a lasting moment, he remained frozen, the very picture of futility.

"Ryou?" demanded Seto. Ryou suddenly burst into tears and raced from the room, his heart-wrenching sobs still echoing in the doorway, Seto staring glumly after him.


	4. Truth

Ryou dashed down hallway after hallway, utterly blinded by tears. He stumbled on and on, not caring that he could hardly breathe, not caring about the splitting pains in his sides, not even caring what Seto might think of him. No one could stop him, because there was no one there, no one for what seemed miles around. Here, he was alone. Here, he was invincible. Here, he was safe from everything except the echoes of his footsteps and ragged breathing. Here, he was… hopelessly lost.

His legs collapsed under him of their own accord. He fell to his knees, in the middle of a long, wide hall. He was thoroughly exhausted, with a ringing in his ears… or was that music? _Now I'm hearing music, _Ryou thought. _I've gone off my rocker. _The music increased in volume – it was a piano, its mournful melody emanating from somewhere in the depths of the KaibaCorp Tower. The music reflected his soul, echoing the cries that were suppressed within him. His heart pounding heavily in his chest, he propelled himself in the direction of what he thought was the source. He sprinted with all of the might of his small body, hall after hall, cutting through empty rooms, and the music never stopped. A sense of urgency compelled him to run, and run faster. He ran around corners and through doors until his heartbeats threatened to engulf him, and his breathing threatened to rip his chest open. It seemed impossible to continue, yet he couldn't stop.

He caught his breath. One heavy door stood between him and the answer to his questions. He opened it a crack, peering into the room, and saw the silhouette of a sleek mane of hair and a trench coat at the grand piano. The pained expression on his face stopped Ryou momentarily, but he realized that Seto was unaware of his presence. The room itself was a large ballroom, although admittedly sparse compared to some of the other ballrooms in the KaibaCorp Tower. Two parallel walls were mirrors, and opposite the door were two large, velvet-curtained windows with cushioned window seats. The heavy, red curtains contrasted prettily with the light-gold carpet, which, incidentally, helped the acoustics of the room. Before Ryou was even aware that he had moved, he found himself crossing the room in order to perch in a window box beside the piano. The tune went on and on, but as Seto played, the stream of tears that had been running steadily down his cheeks diminished.

When the final, lingering sighs of the notes had at last died away, Seto's hands dropped limply into his lap. He breathed deeply, his mind truly clear for the first time in weeks. "The emptiness of this place haunts me," Seto admitted, monotonically.  
"It's understandable," Ryou agreed. "Has it always been this way?"

"No."

Ryou pressed no further. "I'm sorry about earlier. Yami can be cruel when he's angry – to everyone."

"He means well," asserted Seto. "It's his way of showing you…"

"…That he loves me."

A peaceful silence descended over the two, as Seto's fingers began to render "Edelweiss." The comforting, familiar waltz relieved Ryou, the embodiment of calmness.

Once the tune had died away, they sat in silence, contemplating the empty ballroom. At last, Seto sighed, "You can't fix me, Ryou."

"There's nothing to stop me from trying," Ryou retorted.

"This is really stupid," said Seto, flatly.

"Maybe," Ryou conceded. "But it's worth a try, don't you think?"

Later that night, as Seto was preparing for bed, he heard a barely-audible knock on his door. "Ryou," he sighed. "Would it help you to be closer to me?" Ryou seemed relieved to have been understood, but nodded politely, to which Seto led him through his room to the locked door that Ryou had attempted unsuccessfully to open earlier. Seto's room adjoined with a smaller, cozier bedroom. The bedspread was yellow and blue, and was adorned with prints of sailboats. There was a circular, light-green rug in the center of the hardwood floor, and a small desk stood in the corner. A child had lived here. Playthings were strewn here and there – a tiny wooden sailboat, a brightly-painted toy clown on a unicycle, a stuffed teddy bear.

"Thank you," whispered Ryou.

"Don't mention it," groaned Seto. "No, seriously – don't. I have a problem with gratitude."

"We'll have to work on that," Ryou teased. Each smiled weakly as the door was shut between the adjoining rooms. _But where is the child?_ Feeling slightly out of place, Ryou pondered the question until his consciousness faded into odd dreams of childlike silhouettes and melancholy piano music.

"AAAAAAAH!" Ryou sat bolt-upright, drenched in cold sweat, with the absurdly cheerful sunlight pouring through the window. It took a few moments for him to remember where he was – the KaibaCorp Tower, an unknown child's bedroom.

"Ryou!" The door shot open, interrupting his train of thought. "Ryou, what happened? Are you alright?" Seto Kaiba, clad only in his Blue Eyes White Dragon-printed robe and with his umber hair still damp, burst into the room. He halted abruptly upon actually observing Ryou. "Ryou?" he repeated, approaching the frail, shivering form in the bed.

For a moment they were silent, with the exception of the chattering of Ryou's teeth. "There was an accident of sorts." He inhaled deeply, finally calm, but avoiding eye contact. "It was last year, so you'd think I'd have forgotten it by now, but it still gives me nightmares. Sometimes I have these weird flashbacks…" His voice trembled.

Seto, who had perched beside Ryou on the bed and was eyeing him concernedly, asked, "But… what happened?"

"Well…" Ryou took a deep, shuddering breath, and began his tale. "Yami and I were separated, somehow I found myself in an alleyway, and… things kind of progressed from there." He stared at his own white knuckles where his fists were clenched around the bed sheets.

"Your brother knows?" asked Seto.

Ryou nodded weakly. "He was really upset with himself, as if it were his fault."

Seto, out of curiosity, wondered, "This… screaming… Did it happen yesterday?"

"No." For the first time that morning, Ryou gazed up into Seto's face. "It was… nice."

Seto, lost for words, watched birds perching on that window box that Mokuba had insisted upon, even though it looked ridiculous attached to the glass wall that was his window. His flowers were wilting. _Mokuba._ Seto had tossed and turned the previous night, wondering if he had made the right decision in lending Ryou his room.

"Whose room is this?" questioned Ryou, quietly.

Seto shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Ryou startled him by taking his hand in a gesture of comfort. His eyes uncharacteristically clouding, he explained, "It's Mokuba's room. My… brother. I sent him away for the summer." His voice broke. "There isn't enough of him left to bring back." Another awkward silence followed.

"If I'd known that," Ryou sighed. "I wouldn't have wanted to sleep in his room." He suddenly felt uncomfortable, sleeping in a dead child's bedroom.

"It was only gathering dust," Seto reasoned, bitterly. "I can't just leave it like this forever."

"I'm sorry," whispered Ryou, gently placing his arm around Seto, who seemed surprised, but did not protest. It was an all-purpose apology.

"Ryou," he murmured. "Why don't we take the day off and… uh…" He scrambled to remember what kinds of activities were supposed to be relaxing. "Have a picnic?"

Ryou, pulled from his grueling thoughts, glanced curiously at Seto. "Have you ever been on a picnic?"

"No," he admitted. "But it sounds like a good idea. Nice day and all that."

Seto's awkwardness on the subject of recreation had provoked a tiny smile from Ryou. "Better get dressed."

"Right." Seto glanced down at his robe, which had fallen open to reveal his muscular chest. Gathering it closed around him embarrassedly, he suggested, "Why don't you pick something out of my closet?" Ryou briefly wondered when CEOs had time to work on their muscle tone.

"By the way," Ryou added. "How is it that anything in your closet fits me at all?"

"Just some things I bought for Mokuba." He smiled sheepishly. "He didn't like any of it."

As they went through Seto's collection, Ryou realized that Seto was probably as hurt as he was. _Why can't we move on? _It wasn't a rhetorical question. He really didn't know. "Wow," he muttered, upon glancing into a mirror. "You bought these for your brother?" The white, vest-like jacket hung to his knees, with a stiff collar and strategically-placed silver buckles. The maroon turtleneck shirt was thin and skin-tight.

"No, no, no," ejaculated Seto. "You'd wear the other jacket with the purple." He reached over Ryou, who blushed in surprise, to extract something from the box of clothes. He removed the jacket Ryou had been wearing and helped him into a similar one, in black.

"It's a bit much," said Ryou, and dug a T-shirt out

"Well, I think the purple is flattering." Seto smirked in amusement. He hadn't really expected Ryou to be comfortable in clothes that had belonged to his dead brother. "I work with lunatics who call meetings at three in the morning. Whatever I throw on at two thirty had better look good!" Ryou's laugh reminded him of tinkling bells and spring breezes. It flowed the way the wind would on a mild day, when the boardroom window hung open and enticing wafts of spring ruffled the corners of the spreadsheets on the table. He was proud to have provoked such a sound from Ryou's own throat.

"How shall we get there?" Ryou asked, once they had assembled their outfits. "What shall we bring with us? Do you have a basket or a cooler? Where is there a good place for a picnic in Domino?"

"Ryou," Seto grumbled. "Stop it with the questions! I know a spot." What he didn't tell Ryou was that he had taken Mokuba to this exact spot not long before the fatal accident. It had been a going-away present for him: a picnic on top of the world. The concern eating away at the back of Seto's mind was this increasing closeness between Ryou and him. He had loved Mokuba as much as anyone could love another, and he had been desolate for a month; seeing what wasn't there, wishing he'd said and done this or that, not being able to cry or grieve properly because of the numbness… He wanted it to be over, and not to have to think about it anymore – but he was so angry with himself for leeching the life out of Ryou to compensate. _I'm only drawn to him because he makes me feel like I used to feel with Mokuba… It's brotherly… It's brotherly… It's brotherly… _He repeated it like a mantra, but he had trouble believing it.

Ryou was not Mokuba. Ryou was everything that Mokuba could not be: a friend, someone to talk to, and someone who understood him. Mokuba had never understood him. They were just too different to really understand each other, yet they were one and the same. Ryou was different, somehow. Ryou was… trying to get his attention. "Seto? Seto," he was calling. "What are you doing?" Seto glanced down at the kitchen counter, having forgotten what his hands were busy with. The sandwich he had assembled now consisted of five slices of bread, with lettuce and tomato wedged between all of them.

"Uh," Seto muttered. "I was… thinking."

"You've been doing too much of that, lately," Ryou criticized. "Why don't you try writing in a journal before bed? That way, you'll have something to do with all of those thoughts."

Seto wondered, _Does he come up with this stuff off the top of his head?_ "I may try that," he agreed, packing the quintuple-layer sandwich in the picnic box.

Ryou, carrying the little box, followed Seto down several halls and up a floor in the elevator. "I have a feeling we're not leaving through the front door," he commented.

"The front door is overrated," Seto replied. "We're renovating the lobby, anyway." Finally, Seto led Ryou through a trapdoor in the ceiling, up to which a small staircase led. "You're never going to believe this."

"Try me," teased Ryou. Perhaps he could lighten the mood a little? For some reason, Seto seemed just as grim as he had been in the kitchen with his monstrosity of a sandwich. Everything they did seemed to trigger more of Seto's memories, for some reason. He was interrupted in his train of thought by what happened next. Seto flipped the trapdoor open to reveal, not a helicopter pad, as Ryou had expected, but a garden. It wasn't merely a garden – it was a garden built right in the center of the roof of the KaibaCorp Tower. Creeping vines and leafy shrubs obscured most of Domino City, and several stone benches provided seating. Ryou raised his eyebrows. "I never took you for the gardening type." They sat on one of the benches, near a part in the curtain of greenery. The garden was almost like a little room made of bushes, because of the pieces of the architecture that came together above them. The famous yellow protrusions at the top of the Tower curved inwards over their heads, giving the place the feel of a modern, airy sitting room… covered in greenery.

Seto's eyes clouded again. "It was Mokuba's garden. He liked plants. That's why he had that window box outside of his room. If you look up from Main Street, you can see this tiny flower box attached to the side of the building. We had this little removable panel installed so he could plant seeds and such…"

To some, Seto's anecdotes might have sounded like the ramblings of a lunatic. Ryou enjoyed every word. Perhaps it was the fact that they were together, on top of the world, with nothing but silence around them that made him so receptive to hearing Seto reminisce. The traffic roar didn't even faze Ryou. He, despite Seto's earlier comment gnawing at the back of his mind, was actually enjoying himself. _It beats sitting around and worrying about rapists, _he thought, contentedly. The sun shone, but a cool breeze whispered in the shrubbery. It was one of those days when everything is wildly colorful, like a brochure photograph, and the weather is perfect. Everything Ryou spied from the top of the tower amazed him, even though he'd seen it all before.

They were, in tacit agreement, decidedly _not gay_, but several times, they accidentally made eye contact for just a little too long. Once, after dropping the cap of a water bottle on the stone floor, Ryou reached down to retrieve it and ended up taking hold of Seto's hand instead (he had also bent over to help), to which he blushed furiously and turned away. Finally, after several of these instances, Seto merely blurted out, "Why don't you want me to see you blush?"

Ryou, grimacing, turned back to face him, explaining, "When I do, people just spend the next half hour telling me how freakin' adorable I am, which tends to ruin a good conversation."

"I don't mind," protested Seto. "There's nothing remotely wrong with being adorable." There followed the most awkward pause of all, after which they both turned away simultaneously, burning scarlet.

"It's late," observed Seto, finally. "Do you want to go in?"

"Well, not really," Ryou replied. "But you probably have stuff to do, so let's go."

Seto and Ryou trooped back into the building. "I have to file some papers," Seto announced. "If you want, you can… uh… I don't know, look around the library?"

"Sure you don't need any help?" offered Ryou.

"No, thanks," Seto declined. "The system is too confusing – it'd take hours just to explain it to you."

Ryou, who had, luckily, remembered the location of the library, spent the next two hours examining Seto's extensive collection of psychology books. "Did he want to be a psychologist," he wondered, aloud. "Or does this have something to do with Mokuba?" As soft as his voice was, it sounded like a siren in the library, the ceiling cavernous, empty of all but several large shelves of books. A few armchairs in the corners of the library provided comfortable seating for a solitary reader.

All of a sudden, another quiet voice spoke to him from the doorway. "I'm a little unhinged." Ryou turned around, startled, but vocalized not a word, as Seto continued into the room, still silhouetted by the cold light pouring in through the doorway. "I hope you realize what you're doing by staying here."

"I'm helping you," he insisted, faintly. "I'm not just going to walk away."

"I don't understand," Seto growled, bitterly. "You didn't even know me, two days ago, and now you want to help me?"

Ryou sighed. "I think you distract me from thinking about myself. It's been a whole year, but somehow, it still bothers me. I'm overreacting, I suppose."

Seto let the door shut behind him, sinking into an armchair, Ryou following his example. "I've heard, as to such instances, that you're not supposed to blame the victim. Don't you think there's some truth to that?"

"Maybe," murmured Ryou, doubtfully. "But it's always my fault! It was my fault the night you found me, too. I get lost, wander into a bad part of town, and suddenly, I'm being attacked."

"Stop!" commanded Seto. "You can't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault. The men who did it – it's _their_ fault. You are the victim. You are not to be blamed. I can't understand why you'd even _think_ of putting yourself at fault, because you know that's why they do it! They know you'll never tell anyone because – now, wait a minute." Seto broke off in the middle of his tirade. "You did tell someone. You told your brother, didn't you? Didn't he call the police? Didn't he try to get you help?"

"Seto, listen," Ryou hushed. "We did go to the police! We went straight to the police, but they didn't believe us!"

"Then I am going to have a chat with the Domino City Police Department," seethed Seto. "No rock unturned. I'll find the cretins who turned you away, and I'll break every bone in their pathetic bodies! I'll defeat them all in a shadow game! I'll… I'll…"

"That's, um, nice of you," Ryou stammered. "But it still doesn't solve the problem. If anything, incarceration would slow you down."

Seto took several deep, steadying breaths and appeared to calm down. After a long minute of silence, he spoke again. "I'm sorry about that. Um… I wasn't yelling at you, you know…"

"I know." Ryou hesitantly made eye contact once more, smiling slightly. "I can kind of see what you mean, about not blaming myself… I mean, _I_ didn't attack anyone…"

"Exactly," said Seto, approvingly. Then, on a more mundane note, he added, "Meanwhile, um, we have nothing to eat for dinner."

Ryou pursed his lips, before asking, "You mean there's no food in the kitchen?"

"Well, I don't know how to cook any of it," Seto replied, irritably. "And you are not cooking," he added, before Ryou could get a word in edgewise. "We'll go out."

Ryou sighed exaggeratedly. "You'd save yourself a lot of trouble by letting me cook," he argued.

"Let's just go," Seto groaned, exasperatedly. "The car is out front."

"If you insist." Ryou followed Seto down twenty-one floors to the lobby, which was, as Seto had earlier mentioned, being renovated. Plastic hung in sheets over the walls, and several workmen were building what appeared to be an alcove for the front desk into the back wall. "Wow," Ryou commented. "What will it look like when all of this is cleared up?"

"It's going to be really modern," answered Seto. "The walls are going to be all metallic with bolts and such here." He gestured absentmindedly toward what he was describing. "I'm not going to have a carpet – too much work – so I'm having a hardwood floor. If it creaks, I'm suing. The front desk is going to be back there."

"It sounds nice," Ryou complimented, but thought that Seto's design left something to be desired. It was perfect, but somehow, it could be better…

Secretly, Seto had his doubts about the plan, too. He didn't wish to detract from the open, airy quality of the lobby, so he didn't want a dark color on the walls. With so much space though, there was room for more. Potted plants would do, he supposed. Still, he had a nagging feeling that he was missing something obvious. He and Ryou climbed into the sleek, black limousine emblazoned with the KaibaCorp insignia. "The Apnea," he directed the driver, but almost immediately commanded, "Wait!"

Ryou, beside him in the car, had frozen in apparent fear. His nut-brown eyes were wide and his entire body trembled. "Ryou!" cried Seto. "What's the matter?"

"I-I…" Ryou began to stutter. "I c-can't go back there…" He grabbed the collar of Seto's shirt and crawled across the seats to whisper directly into his ear.

"No, I completely understand," Seto agreed, hurriedly. "We'll go somewhere else. How about that place on Fifth and First?" Thankfully, the driver remembered it, because Seto couldn't, for the life of him, recall the name of the restaurant. As the car sped off, Seto turned to Ryou, examining him. He still appeared slightly shaken. "How are you feeling?" Seto smoothed his rumpled collar.

"I'm fine," Ryou replied, weakly. "Sorry about your shirt. I don't think I can go back there…"

"You don't have to apologize," Seto assured him. "The place gives me the creeps anyway."

After a pause, Ryou added, softly, "But maybe I can go back there, someday."


	5. Healing

Dinner was an uneventful affair. Each snuck numerous peeks at the other when the other's attentions appeared otherwise engaged. At one point, a trio of young women interrupted them by surrounding Seto in order to fawn over him. He amused Ryou by pointedly ignoring them and restricting his remarks to, "How do you do," and, "No, thank you." When the women had left, giggling all the while, Seto demanded, "What was so amusing?"

Once Ryou's silent hysterics had died down, he explained, "One would think the Great Seto Kaiba would at least offer an autograph!"

"That was exceedingly rude of them," Seto grumbled. "To interrupt us during dinner."

Ryou waved the complaint away airily, reminding him, "It's not as if there was a whole lot to talk about that we didn't cover earlier."

"What are you, my therapist?"

"And you're mine," Ryou agreed. Out of context, Seto liked the sound of that phrase.

As they left the restaurant, and climbed into the limousine, Seto questioned, "Does it bother you that your brother hasn't called?" He seated himself across from Ryou.

A shadow crossed Ryou's face, but he answered, "Not really. I've seen him hold ridiculous grudges before, and he's probably hopping mad at you."

Seto scowled. "Don't make excuses for him, Ryou. He's a jerk, and he's trying to control your life."

"It would seem like that to you," replied Ryou, coolly. "But really, he's not that bad. I really enjoy his company, as I enjoy yours."

Seto, struck by the weight of the words absent in Ryou's tone of voice, suddenly remembered Ryou's past. "Ryou… How many friends have you had?"

Ryou pretended to consider the question thoughtfully, before answering, "Two. Yami, and you."

"Ryou," moaned Seto, slapping his forehead in a gesture of irritation. "You do realize you're growing up surrounded by emotionally disturbed people who take their anger out on you, don't you?"

"You don't take your anger out on me," protested Ryou, quietly. He watched the headlights of cars mingling with the colorful lights of Domino City at night.

"It's only a matter of time," Seto insisted. "It's only a matter of time before I go into a fit of rage and give you a black eye, or push past you and throw you against a wall!"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" whispered Ryou, baiting the trap.

"What?" Seto stammered, suddenly uncharacteristically at a loss for words. "I-Ryou, I – no! Ryou, no! Certainly not! No, why would I want to get rid of you?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Ryou asked. "All I've done is cause trouble for you. I complain about my insignificant past, I force you to take a day off of work when you don't want one, I ask you all kinds of irritating questions that hurt you and make you uncomfortable, I throw tantrums when you want to go out to eat, and I climb into your bed uninvited!"

"Ryou," cried Seto, suddenly losing his temper. "How can you even think that? The day off was my idea, and I damn well needed the break! Your past isn't insignificant at all, and I'm glad I can be there to help you figure yourself out! That wasn't a tantrum, Ryou, and even if it had been, I wouldn't have thought any less of you! As for the questions, if you hadn't asked any, I'd have gone on thinking _I_ was the one bothering _you_! You're doing nothing wrong!"

As Ryou stared into his lap and Seto stared at Ryou, both breathing heavily, Ryou muttered, softly, "You… forgot one."

It took Seto a moment to figure out what Ryou meant, but then realized he'd forgotten to mention Ryou's earlier comment about climbing into his bed uninvited. Seto blushed bright red. "Oh, right… Well, no harm done, right? I mean, I didn't _mind_. Uh…" He felt Ryou's piercing, calculating gaze on him. "That is to say, I… didn't _not_ want you there…" Ryou raised an eyebrow. "Um… You weren't _bothering_ me by sleeping… Uh… Yeah, I'm out of excuses."

"That's great." Ryou's voice, thick with strained sarcasm, cracked. "It's nice to hear how you feel. Thanks for putting it out there so clearly." His lip trembled, and in his eyes, all of the lights of the city blurred together. It had all been building up to this – the hurt, the anger, the fear – all of the memories built up inside of him, and finally burst forth, a culmination of the events of the past year.

"Ryou," murmured Seto, worriedly. "Ryou, I didn't mean… I don't… I…"

"Never mind," sobbed Ryou. "You don't have to explain. You don't have to say things just to make me feel better." Something about the knowledge that Seto didn't return his feelings made his heart feel as if it was disappearing. He pictured it as blown glass, with a web of cracks on the surface. All of a sudden, it shattered, a shower of glass shards raining down upon him. A strangled cry escaped his lips – if his heart had been so fragile, who was to say the rest of him wouldn't follow after it? Clutching at his chest, he turned to Seto, glaring as if to say, _"Now look what you've done!" _but Seto wasn't there. Confused, he found himself suddenly pulled into an embrace. His eyes widened in shock, and his body froze up, forgetting what he was supposed to do.

"Ryou," Seto was whispering in his ear. "I think, in this case, two wrongs might just make a right. Do you think, if we stick together, we could fix both of us at once?" He began to stroke Ryou's hair, gently. Now that he had begun, it was easy, being this close to Ryou. His lap was suddenly occupied again, and he felt more complete than he had ever felt in his entire life.

Ryou forgot everything. He forgot the resentment, and he forgot the fear. There was nothing but him and Seto. He melted against Seto's chest, hugging him fiercely. The void was filled, shards of glass coming together once again, his heart reborn for a second chance. "I think that would be a good idea," he replied, his voice muffled by Seto's body.

As he and Ryou sat intertwined in the car, Seto remembered something else that he needed to learn how to say. "Ryou, I love you."

Seto sat upright in his bed, a leather-bound journal in his lap. Ryou, asleep beside him, was peaceful. He knew Ryou's dreams were pleasant, that night. By the light of the full moon, Seto began to write:

_For once, I'm not angry or sad, or even dwelling on memories of my brother. I'm only thinking about Ryou, and I know he's thinking about me, too. If this is wrong, somehow, so be it. Frankly, I don't really care. Ryou fills the empty space, but there's more than that. I can't explain it, but there is. _

_I'm letting him sleep with me, now, but not… like that. Ryou looks too much like a sleeping angel to spoil him that way yet. He spent a good half-hour scribbling in his journal. I feel like such an ass for wanting to take a peek._

Seto closed his journal, setting it down on the bedside table, and hesitantly reached over Ryou's prostrate body for the little book beside him. Ryou stirred in his sleep, and Seto tensed – Ryou remained asleep. The little book was slightly dog-eared, as it had been in Ryou's jeans pocket when Seto had found him. Seto opened the book to the recent page to find, not a journal entry, but a detailed sketch of himself. Ryou had added something to the portrait, though. Somehow, Seto's face seemed softer, more tender and loving. It was he, as seen by Ryou – Seto didn't think he'd ever seen a more flattering picture. That wasn't all, though. Underneath the portrait, Ryou had written, "I love you, Seto."

"I love you, too, Ryou," whispered Seto, aloud, replacing the book beside Ryou's sleeping form. He kissed Ryou's cheek lightly as he did so, before laying beside Ryou, draping his arm over him.

_Fin._


End file.
